The Wanderer Poem by Phil Soar

I found myself a-wandering
But wasn't really lost,
I bought some crops, at a local shop
And never missed the cost
I was all alone, I don't know where
And forgot just where I'd been
I'm sat in a field of Barley
With no sign of any green
There's a feeling of tranquillity
And an air of something sweet
There's a pigeon sitting next to me
It's pecking at my feet
There's a rabbit in the undergrowth
Staring at the scene
And a fox on the rocks drinking from a brook
And his paws aren't all that clean

I found myself a-wandering
And was mentally impressed
With the way I strode across the fields
Much faster than I'd guessed
I didn't think I had the speed
To walk for miles and miles
Taking in the countryside
And crossing many styles
My trip was rather short though
I trespassed on some grass
And a local farmer got a gun
And shot me in the ass!